


one kiss, two kiss (but not a word on your lips)

by Yersina



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, but only a lil bit in the middle, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22186441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yersina/pseuds/Yersina
Summary: they've never needed words to understand each other.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 14
Kudos: 212





	one kiss, two kiss (but not a word on your lips)

i

it starts at ten in the morning—or maybe at midnight? or maybe at six, when the sun is returning to the sky and jisung is returning to the dorm, body tired but mind buzzing with ideas, words waiting to be set free but so little time to give them form. chan gives him a look when jisung follows him into his shared bedroom after brushing his teeth, but jisung’s gotten good at ignoring those. he doesn’t even bother changing before he’s slipping into minho’s bunk. 

minho likes to sleep splayed out on his stomach because he’s weird and enjoys being uncomfortable, but as soon as jisung rustles the bed covers, minho wakes up just enough to grunt at him, half-awake, and roll onto his side so jisung can settle in close, drawing him in with an arm around his waist. minho never scoots back far enough and jisung is always on the verge of falling off the mattress, but it’s still somehow more comfortable than sleeping in his own bed. 

_good night,_ jisung thinks but doesn’t say because minho’s already asleep again, hand splayed out over jisung’s chest and legs tangled together. when he exhales, jisung can feel it tickle the hairs where minho’s face is pressed to the top of his head. it should be ticklish at best and annoying at worst, but it settles somewhere near _cozywarmhome_ instead. 

jisung closes his eyes and lets the quiet sound of minho’s gentle breaths lull him to sleep.

ii

jisung’s not exactly a light sleeper, but it’s hard not to notice when minho basically has to climb over him in order to get out of bed. he whines because now he’s _cold_ and _uncomfortable_ and he just wants minho to come back and cuddle him some more, but mostly because if minho’s getting up, it means that jisung has to be up soon too, and it can’t have been more than a couple hours since he came home.

“sorry,” minho murmurs, pressing a fleeting kiss to his cheek, which would _almost_ make up for waking him up if it wasn’t also accompanied by tweak of his ear. 

“you suck,” is the most eloquent reply he can come up with, mumbled into the pillow and half-unintelligible. minho just laughs.

he keeps his eyes firmly shut even though he knows there’s no way he can fall back asleep like this, because sometimes, even the illusion of rest is better than acknowledging the light of day. there’s the rustling of cloth and the whisper of slippers against hardwood and the creak of the door and jisung knows that minho’s off to the shower. he gives himself a couple minutes to breathe in the soft morning air, still warm with sleep and dreams, before he drags himself out of bed and back to his own room to scrounge for clothes.

iii

the car ride to their first schedule is quiet, especially since they don’t try to film anything this time. minho, jisung, and seungmin get shoved in the backseat of the van, while chan and changbin take the front. there’s an unspoken agreement among all of them to use the commute to at least pretend to get some rest, so seungmin pulls out his travel eye mask and changbin settles against the window even with the condensation fogging it up. 

against his will, jisung feels his eyes grow heavier and heavier with each gentle rock of the car. minho’s hand is warm where it’s entwined with his own and his shoulder is the perfect pillow, so jisung barely feels any guilt when he starts drifting off, head tucked into the crook of minho’s neck. 

a blink and an infinity later, jisung is jostled when minho shifts to get more comfortable. his questioning sound is met with a quiet shush and a kiss to the top of his head and just like that, jisung slips back into his dreams. 

iv

getting ready for shows is always a whirlwind of makeup and outfits and cameras and lights and jisung has long gotten over the novelty of it all. he suffers through the brushes and sponges and powder on almost every bit of exposed skin, briefly pops over to where hyunjin is recording something with felix, before finally stealing over to where minho is reclined on a couch on his phone, already long done with the whole process. 

if they were at the dorm, minho would’ve let jisung crawl in close and tuck himself into minho’s side, but there are too many other people around and jisung doesn’t want to risk the ire of the coordi noonas by smearing minho’s nice black outfit with any of his makeup. he instead contents himself with sitting close enough that he can feel minho’s body heat against his arm, even through both layers of fabric. 

minho wordlessly tilts his phone so that jisung can also see the video of a cat (he recognizes doongie—she’s always the least camera-shy) currently playing on the screen. there’s a hand that flashes in and out of frame in the corner, shaking a feathered toy for doongie to chase. it’s unbearably cute. 

the other half of jisung’s attention goes towards the slow and steady breaths that he can feel from minho, barely jostling jisung’s shoulder as he breathes in and out. it’s just on the border of exaggerated, and if jisung could be bothered to count the seconds, he’s sure that each breath would be the exact same length, but he appreciates it anyway. jisung matches his pace, feeling unnoticed tension drain out of his shoulders, the exhaustion of a too-short night’s sleep kept at bay for a couple minutes longer. 

the video continues for another few seconds, just until doongie triumphantly captures the toy and hyunjin finally spots them across the room, abandoning felix and practically skipping over. jisung pulls away from minho as he approaches, tucking away that stolen peace behind his breastbone where it keeps him warm as hyunjin pulls him off the couch and towards where the other members are starting their stretches. 

v

once they’re back at the company, it’s straight off to dance practice for them. (jeongin bades them a quick goodbye before he hurries off to school, backpack hastily zipped up and haphazardly stuffed with his messy schoolwork. jisung doesn’t envy him.)

after warming up, they jump straight into learning the steps to their newest title track. the next half hour is a blur of song and sweat and synchronization and jisung once again regains his appreciation for the main dancers of their group, who are the quickest pick the movements and then move on to teaching the rest of them.

the choreographer finally lets them take a break once their limbs are dragging and they’re all edging dangerously into frustration. jisung collapses onto the ground next to the water bottles, desperately guzzling some of it down. he thinks he might have read somewhere that too much water after exercise is actually a bad thing, but at the moment, he couldn’t care less.

minho joins him only a second later and it takes barely half a second of thought for jisung to heave himself onto his back, hooking his chin over minho’s shoulder.

“hey,” minho protests half-heartedly, but doesn’t do anything to shake jisung off. jisung is mildly annoyed at how even though minho is soaked like the rest of them, he doesn’t seem as worse for wear. without thinking too hard about it, he turns his head to the side and blows a raspberry into the side of minho’s neck.

minho promptly shrieks with laughter and sprawls out on the ground in an attempt to get away because he really is the most ticklish person jisung knows. of course, this means jisung goes down with him and they end up in an unpleasantly sweaty heap on the floor of the practice room. jisung gets about two seconds to appreciate how truly disgusting it is to be plastered against someone who’s just as hot and sweaty as he is before hyunjin spots them from across the room and pounces on their impromptu doggy pile. 

vi

jisung doesn’t like vocal lessons. 

he knows he has a good voice, can appreciate his own vocal quality, is perfectly happy to belt out a few lines for their songs, but he’s a rapper for a _reason._ as much as the rest of the group likes to claim that he’s “unreal” and “scarily talented”, singing is just something he happens to be good at. for the sake of their group and their music, he’s willing—he _wants_ —to push himself, but by the gods, sometimes he’d rather stay up with chan and changbin ‘til dawn every day of the week than stay another second in that tiny practice room with the vocal coach. 

he begs a break half an hour into the lesson and escapes the moment the grudging agreement leaves the teacher’s mouth. he’ll regret that later when he still has over half of the lesson left to go, but for now, he trots over to the vending machine around the corner, only to do a double take when he sees minho leaning against the wall, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. the bottle of tea in his other hand is more than half-finished, jisung notes sourly, and it quickly goes down to a couple of drops when he plucks it right out of minho’s grasp and takes a sip.

“yah!” minho swipes it back and finishes the bottle with a challenging eyebrow raised in jisung’s direction. 

jisung just sticks his tongue out. “recording?” the most recent guide that 3racha had submitted for approval hasn’t gotten the okay yet, but he knows chan is getting a little antsy. the deadline is coming up and really, it’s their own perfectionism that’s holding them back rather than the company. 

the way minho’s lips thin is answer enough, but he gets a terse nod as well. jisung’s heart twinges in return. he has all too much sympathy for that feeling of not-good-enough, that aimless floundering when your biggest critic is yourself and in turn knows how useless words can be in response, their flimsiness in the face of the avalanche that is self-doubt. 

he bites his lip, suddenly uncomfortably aware that comforting other people has never been his strong suit. it only takes another painfully long second where minho won’t meet his eyes before he’s quickly glancing both ways down the hallway to make sure the coast is clear and drawing minho into the tightest hug he can manage. the words get caught in his throat, but he doesn’t try to push past the block. the most important moments between them have always been wordless. 

minho doesn’t say anything either, doesn’t laugh or pat his back or do anything of the things he usually does when jisung hugs him, but he does press his face into jisung’s shoulder and draw in an almost-silent breath. the way it ruffles the tiny hairs at the nape of jisung’s neck makes him shiver. 

the embrace is longer than any friendly hug should be, but it’s just the right amount of time for them. by the time jisung finds it in himself to draw away, there’s a new set to minho’s mouth, one that he likes a lot better than the twist of defeat that’s too familiar. 

_‘better?’_ he doesn’t need to ask.

 _‘yes.’_ he doesn’t hear.

minho says goodbye with the barest brush of lips against jisung’s nose and the squeeze of their hands is a silent promise to persevere for just another day.

vii

dinner is a messy affair on the best of days, with broken and reformed plans every other second and individual schedules and diets that keep them all from eating together. jisung has long resigned himself to eating alone in the company cafeteria on most days, absently shoveling food into his mouth as he types on his phone.

he startles violently when someone grabs the back of his neck, letting out a short scream that thankfully doesn’t attract too much attention since there aren’t that many other people attempting to eat dinner at nine at night. “what—”

the bubbly laughter that erupts behind him can only be one person, and his suspicions are confirmed when minho’s bright grin comes into view. he takes the punch jisung throws at him good-naturedly, rubbing his arm as he plops into the seat across from jisung. jisung stomps on minho’s feet a few times for good measure, each one asking _‘why?’_ but minho just kicks jisung’s shin with a giggle and pulls out his own phone. an entire minute of wary eyeing passes before jisung feels safe enough to return to his meal, looking up from his phone every few seconds to glance at minho dubiously. 

dinner ends up taking much longer than it usually does, between minho reaching over to grab jisung’s cheeks as he chews and jisung swatting at him in retaliation. jisung’s only halfway done when minho stands up to leave only a couple of minutes after he arrived, ruffling jisung’s hair with a crooked grin. he pauses at the doorway of the cafeteria to blow jisung a kiss which jisung pointedly catches and tosses in the direction of the trash can without a second glance. 

rolling his eyes to himself, jisung hides his smile with another bite. he’s the only one in the room again, but the silence doesn’t press in on him like it usually does. 

viii

“i’m cutting you off,” chan says with a wry twist to his lips when jisung lists to the side again. “you left late last night too and we had an early schedule this morning. changbin already left—you should get some sleep too.” 

“still not as late as you,” jisung protests after a too-long moment of processing, but it’s weak. he can feel his eyelids attempting to glue themselves together with every passing second. “i can stay longer.”

“no you can’t,” chan laughs, pointing at jisung’s open notebook. jisung looks down wearily, huffing out a laugh at the squiggly lines all over the page from where jisung starts drifting off. “stay here any longer and it’ll look like you were trying to draw confetti. all you need is multicolored pens.”

jisung just sets his mouth stubbornly. “i’m not leaving without you. you need rest too, hyung.” it’s underhanded, sure, because chan’s biggest weakness is the wellbeing of other people, but jisung’s not above a little bit of manipulation to get him into a bed for once. the bags under chan’s eyes have been getting darker and heavier and while jisung understands the push to do _more,_ to be _perfect,_ it won’t do them any good if their leader collapses one day from sleep deprivation. 

sure enough, chan sighs heavily before closing his laptop goodnaturedly. “i guess i could stand to get some sleep, huh?” jisung beams at him with all the energy he’s capable of mustering at the moment. both of them know that the laptop is going to come right back out once they get back to the dorms, but jisung’s willing to accept the lie for now.

as they’re walking past the dance practice rooms, footsteps conspicuously loud in the dead silence of the building, chan’s the first to point out the sole light emanating from the room at the end of the hallway. “minho-yah?” 

“minho-hyung,” jisung confirms with a long-suffering sigh, already turning to head in the direction of the room.

“going to drag him back home too?” chan asks with a grin. “should i wait?”

“you know it.” jisung salutes. “and nah, you go on ahead. we’ll see you back at the dorms.”

“stay safe!”

with a wave, they head in their separate directions. jisung pauses at the door to the practice room, peering through the thin rectangle of glass curiously. there’s no one in immediate view, so jisung pushes the door open cautiously, sticking his head in. “minho-hyung?”

“jisungie?” minho cranes his head over from where he’s seated next to the mirrors, phone cradled in his hands. jisung frowns. the phone means that minho knew what time it was but still decided not to head home.

he shuffles over and sinks onto the floor next to minho, pulling his knees up to his chest and resting his head against minho’s shoulder. he listens to minho’s quick breaths as he watches the video on the screen of their last group dance practice, expert eyes still tracing over their movements for places they can improve. 

as soon as the video ends, jisung bats the phone out of minho’s hands, wincing slightly as it clatters onto the glossy hardwood floor. his heartbeat quickens with minho’s heavy exhale, just on the edge of annoyance, but minho merely turns and quickly presses a kiss to the top of jisung’s head. _‘i get the hint,’_ it says, and jisung watches with satisfaction as minho collects all of his belongings before pulling jisung to his feet. 

ix

jisung stumbles over nothing every few steps during their walk home, eyes mostly closed and relying entirely on minho’s steady presence to get them back safely. he’s not sure whether it’s his own sleepiness or minho’s carefulness that slows them down, but the walk seems to take forever, passing in a haze of blurry lights and half-familiar sights. minho keeps a tight hold of jisung’s hand the entire time, fingers interlaced and tucked into his coat pocket, so jisung gladly takes the excuse to attach himself to minho’s side. 

their lopsided steps take them all the way to the entrance of their dorm, where jisung blinks sleepily at minho when he gently tugs his hand out of jisung’s grasp so he can slip off his backpack and dig out their key. jisung pouts at the sudden coldness, shoving his hand back into his own pocket while minho fumbles with the lock. 

as soon as minho has the door open, jisung is sticking his hand back out into the cold night air, wiggling his fingers expectantly when minho merely quirks an amused smile at him. he takes jisung’s hand with a roll of his eyes, dragging him into the dorm and out of the cold.

it takes jisung a good half-minute to struggle out of his winter jacket, weak fingers pulling half-heartedly at puffy sleeves until he’s finally able to twist out of the large coat and toss it over an arm of the couch. one of the members will discover it in the morning and chew him out for it, but that’s a problem for future jisung. current jisung just wants the comfort of warm blankets and— 

he just barely contains his shriek when an ice-cold hand burrows beneath the collar of his shirt and presses against the skin between his shoulder blades. minho dances out of the way of jisung’s fist, impish grin plastered to his face and incriminating _(freezing)_ hands raised in surrender. 

then, before jisung can even summon the words to chew him out, minho darts in and presses an equally cold kiss to his lips and leaves jisung blushing in the living room while he trots off to the bathroom.

x

this time it’s minho climbing into bed with jisung, hair still dripping water from his shower. jisung reluctantly relinquishes his death grip on the covers to him, whining softly when he feels a cold draft creeping its way into his bed. “sorry,” minho breathes, barely louder than the sound of him climbing carefully into the bed. 

jisung just grumbles wordlessly in return, eyes screwed tightly shut and already more than halfway asleep. he’s too tired to figure out the logistics of spooning, so he shifts just enough for minho to be able to lie down next to him, forehead pressed against his own and minty breath gusting against his face.

after a few moments of lying there quietly, jisung feels minho shift and seconds later, there are fingertips ghosting across his cheek, tracing his cheekbone and down his jawline. the touch is light and reverent, a wordless declaration of emotion that jisung could write a million songs about, if he were any more awake than he is now. as it is, jisung turns his head just enough so that his lips brush against minho’s hand on its next pass and smiles lazily at the minute hitch in breath before the hand retreats under the covers. 

“good night,” minho whispers, voice a wisp of sound in the dark room. 

_good night,_ jisung thinks but doesn’t say, mind already wandering off to pastel dreams of soft touches and quick kisses. 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://littlenookofnonsense.tumblr.com/) | [twt](https://twitter.com/yersin_a) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/yersin_a)


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